


To the Dreams That Aren't Always Answered

by HighLadyOfTheSith



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 12:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18031979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighLadyOfTheSith/pseuds/HighLadyOfTheSith
Summary: Snippets of what would happen if Feyre was captured in the Hybern camp in chapter 65 of ACOWAR, so obviously spoilers for that.Re-uploading  this because I accidentally deleted it.My TumblrJoin my discord





	1. ?

The first test would be the most dangerous— and informative.

Passing through the guards stationed at the edge of the camp—and

learning if they'd heard of Ianthe's demise. Learning what sort of power

Ianthe truly wielded here.

I kept my features in that beatific, pretty mask she'd always plastered

on her face, head held just so, my mating ring turned facedown

and put onto my other hand, a few silver bracelets Azriel had borrowed

from the camp priestess dangling at my wrists. I let them jangle loudly,

as she had, like a cat with a bell on its collar.

A pet—I supposed Ianthe was no more than a pet of the king.

I couldn't see Azriel, but I could feel him, as if the Siphon parading

itself as Ianthe's jewel was a tether. He dwelled in every pocket of shadow,

darting ahead and behind.

The six guards flanking the camp entrance monitored Ianthe, strutting

out of the dark, with unmasked distaste. I steadied my heart, became

her, preening and coy, vain and predatory, holy and sensual.

They did not stop me as I walked past them and onto the long avenue

that cut through the endless camp. Did not look confused or expectant.

I didn't dare let my shoulders slump, or even heave a sigh of utter

relief. Not as I headed down the broad artery lined by tents and forges,

fires and—and things I did not look at, did not even turn toward as the

sounds coming out of them charged at me.

This place made the Court of Nightmares seem like a human

sitting room filled with chaste maidens embroidering pillows.

And somewhere in this hell-pit ... Elain. Had the Cauldron presented

her to the king? Or was she in some in-between, trapped in whatever

dark world the Cauldron occupied?

I'd seen the king's tent in Nesta's scrying. It had not seemed as far

away as it did now, rising like a gargantuan, spiny beast from the center

of the camp. Entrance to it would present another set of obstacles.

If we made it that far without being noticed.

The time of night worked to our advantage. The soldiers who were

awake were either engaged in activities of varying awfulness, or were on

guard and wishing they could be. The rest were asleep.

It was strange, I realized with each bouncing step and jangle of jewelry

toward the heart of camp, to consider that Hybern actually needed rest.

I'd somehow assumed they were beyond it—mythic, unending in

their strength and rage.

But they, too, tired. And ate. And slept.

Perhaps not as easily or as much as humans, but, with two hours

until dawn, we were lucky. Once the sun chased away the shadows,

though... Once it made some gaps in my costume all too clear ...

It was hard to scan the tents we passed, hard to focus on the sounds

of the camp while pretending to be someone wholly used to it. I didn't

even know if Ianthe had a tent here—if she was allowed near the king

whenever she wished.

I doubted it—doubted we'd be able to stroll right into his personal

tent and find wherever the hell Elain was.

A massive bonfire smoldered and crackled near the center of camp,

the sounds of revelry reaching us long before we got a good visual.

I knew within a few heartbeats that most of the soldiers were not

sleeping.

They were here.

Celebrating.

Some danced in wicked circles around the fire, their contorted shapes

little more than twisted shadows flinging through the night. Some drank

from enormous oak barrels of beer I recognized—right from Tamlin's

stores. Some writhed with each other—some merely watched.

But through the laughter and singing and music, over the roar of

the fire ... Screaming.

A shadow gripped my shoulder, reminding me not to run.

Ianthe would not run—would not show alarm.

My mouth went dry as that scream sounded again.

I couldn't bear it—to let it go on, to see what was being done—

Azriel's shadow-hand grasped my own, tugging me closer. His rage

rippled off his invisible form.

We made a lazy circuit of the revelry, other parts of it becoming

clear. The screaming—

It was not Elain.

It was not Elain who hung from a rack near a makeshift dais of

granite.

It was one of the Children of the Blessed, young and slender—

My stomach twisted, threatening to surge up my throat.

Two others were chained up beside her. From the way they sagged, the injuries on

their naked bodies—

Clare. It was like Clare, what had been done to them. And like

Clare, they had been left there to rot, left for the crows surely to arrive

at dawn.

This one had held out for longer.

I couldn't. I couldn't—couldn't leave her there—

But if I lingered too long, they'd see. And drawing attention to

myself ...

Could I live with it? I'd once killed two innocents to save Tamlin

and his people. I'd be as good as killing her if I left her there in favor of

saving my sister ...

Stranger. She was a stranger—

"He's been looking for you," drawled a hard male voice.

I pivoted to find Jurian striding from between two tents, buckling

his sword-belt. I glanced at the dais. And as if an invisible hand wiped

away the smoke ...

There sat the King of Hybern. He lounged in his chair, head propped

on a fist, face a mask of vague amusement as he surveyed the revelry,

the torture and torment. The adulation of the crowd that occasionally

turned to toast or bow to him.

I willed my voice to soften, adapted that lilt. "I have been busy with

my sisters."

Jurian stared at me for a long moment, eyes sliding

to the Siphon atop my head.

I knew the moment he realized who I was. Those brown eyes

flared—barely.

"Where is she," was all I breathed.

Jurian gave a cocky grin. Not directed at me,

but anyone watching

us. "You've been lusting after me for weeks now," he purred. "Act

like it."

My throat constricted. But I laid a hand on his forearm, batting my

eyelashes at him as I stepped closer.

A bemused snort. "I have trouble believing that's how you won his

heart."

I tried not to scowl. "Where is she."

"Safe. Untouched."

My chest caved in at the word.

"Not for long," Jurian said. "It gave him a shock when she appeared

before the Cauldron. He had her contained. Came here to brood over

what to do with her. And how to make you pay for it."

I ran a hand up his arm, then rested it over his heart. "Where. Is.

She."

Jurian leaned in as if he'd kiss me, and brought his mouth to my

ear. "Were you smart enough to kill her before you took her skin?"

My hands tightened on his jacket. "She got what she deserved."

I could feel Jurian's smile against my ear. "She's in his tent. Chained

with steel and a little spell from his favorite book."

Shit. Shit. Perhaps I should have gotten Helion, who could break

almost any—

Jurian caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Come

to my tent with me, Ianthe. Let me see what that pretty mouth can

do."

It was an effort not to recoil, but I let Jurian put a hand on my lower

back. He chuckled. "Seems like you've already got some steel in you.

No need for mine."

I gave him a pretty, sunshine smile. "What of the girl on the rack?"

Darkness flickered in those eyes. "There have been many before

her, and many will come after."

"I can't leave her here," I said through my teeth.

Jurian led me into the labyrinth of tents, heading for that

inner circle. "Your sister or her—you won't be able to take two out."

"Get her to me, and I'll make it happen."

Jurian muttered,"Say you would like to pray before the Cauldron

before we retire."

I blinked, and realized there were guards—guards and that giant,

bone-colored tent ahead of us. I clasped my hands before me and said

to Jurian,"Before we ... retire, I should like to pray before the great

Cauldron. To give thanks for today's bounty."

Jurian glowered—a man ready for rutting who had been delayed.

"Make it quick," he said, jerking his chin to the guards on either side of

the tent flaps. I caught the look he gave them—male to male. They

didn't bother to hide their leering as I passed.

And since I was Ianthe ... I gave them each a sultry smile, sizing

them up for conquest of a different kind than the one they'd come to

Prythian to do.

The one on the right's answering grin told me he was mine for the

taking.

Later, I willed my eyes to say. When I'm done with the human.

He adjusted his belt a bit as I slipped into the tent.

Dim—cold. Like the sky before dawn, that's how the tent felt.

No crackling braziers, no faelights. And in the center of the massive

tent ... a darkness that devoured the light. The Cauldron.

The hair on my arms rose.

Jurian whispered in my ear,"You have five minutes to get her out.

Take her to the western edge—there's a cliff overlooking the river. I'll

meet you there."

I blinked at him.

Jurian's grin was a slash of white in the gloom. "If you hear screaming,

don't panic." His diversion. He smirked toward the shadows. "I hope

you can carry three, shadowsinger."

Azriel did not confirm that he was there, that he'd heard.

Jurian studied me for a heartbeat longer. "Save a dagger for your

own heart. If they catch you alive, the king will—" He shook his head.

"Don't let them catch you alive."

Then he was gone.

Azriel emerged from the deep shadows in the corner of the tent a

heartbeat later. He jerked his chin toward the curtains in the back. I

began intoning one of Ianthe's many prayers, a pretty speech I'd heard

her say a thousand times at the Spring Court.

We rushed across the rugs, dodging tables and furniture. I chanted

her prayers all the while.

Azriel slid back the curtain—

Elain was in her nightgown. Gagged, wrists wrapped in steel that

glowed violet. Her eyes went wide as she saw us—Azriel and me—

I shifted my face back into my own, raising a hand to my lips as

Azriel knelt before her. I kept up my litany of praying, beseeching the

Cauldron to make my womb fruitful, on and on—

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite

believing it. "You came for me." The shadowsinger only inclined his

head.

"Hurry," I whispered, then resumed my prayer. We had until it

ran out.

Azriel's Siphons flared, the one atop my head warming.

The magic did nothing when it came into contact with those bonds.

Nothing.

Only a few more verses of my prayer left to chant.

Her wrists and ankles were bound. She couldn't run out of here with

them on.

I reached a hand toward her, scrambling for a thread of Helion's

power to unravel the king's spell on the chains. But my magic was still

depleted, in shambles—

"We don't have time," Azriel murmured. "He's coming."

The screaming and shouting began.

Azriel scooped up Elain, looping her bound arms around his neck.

"Hold tight," he ordered her,"and don't make a sound."

Barking and baying rent the night. I drew off the robe, and pocketed

Azriel's Siphon before palming two knives. "Out the back?"

A nod. "Get ready to run.

My heart thundered. Elain glanced between us, but did not tremble.

Did not cringe.

"Run, and don't stop," he told me. "We sprint for the western

edge—the cliff."

"If Jurian's not there with the girl in time—"

"Then you will go. I'll get her."

I blew out a breath, steadying myself.

The barking and growling grew louder—closer.

"Now," Azriel hissed, and we ran.

His Siphons blazed, and the canvas of the back of the tent melted

into nothing. We bolted through it before the guards nearby noticed.

They didn't react to us. Only peered at the hole.

Azriel had made us invisible—shadowbound.

We sprinted between tents, feet flying over the grass and dirt.

"Hurry," he whispered. "The shadows won't last long."

For in the east, behind us ... the sun was beginning to rise.

A piercing howl split the dying night. And I knew they'd realized

what we'd done. That we were here. And even if they couldn't see

us ...the King of Hybern's hounds could scent us.

"Faster," Azriel snarled.

The earth shuddered behind us. I didn't dare look behind.

We neared a rack of weapons. I sheathed my knives, freeing my

hands as we hurtled past and I snatched a bow and quiver of arrows

from their stand. Ash arrows.

The arrows clacked as I slung the quiver over a shoulder. As I

nocked an arrow into place.

Azriel cut right, swerving around a tent.

And with the angle ... I turned and fired.

The nearest hound—it was not a hound, I realized as the arrow

spiraled for its head.

But some cousin of the naga—some monstrous, scaled thing that

thundered on all fours, serpentine face snarling and full of bone-

shredding white teeth—

My arrow went right through its throat.

It went down, and we rounded the tent, hurtling for that still-dim

western horizon.

I nocked another arrow.

Three others. Three more behind us, gaining with every clawed step—

I could feel them around us—Hybern commanders, racing along

with the hounds, tracking the beasts because they still could not see us.

That arrow I'd fired had told them enough about the distance. But the

moment the hounds caught up ... those commanders would appear.

Kill us or drag us away.

Row after row of tents, slowly awakening at the ruckus in the center

of the camp.

The air rippled, and I looked up to see the rain of ash arrows

unleashed from behind, so many they were a blind attempt to hit any target—

Azriel's blue shield shuddered at the impact, but held. Yet our

shadows shivered and faded.

The hounds closed in, two breaking away—to cut to the side. To

herd us.

For that was a cliff at the other edge of the camp. A cliff with a very,

very long drop, and unforgiving river below.

And standing at its end, huddled in a dark cloak ...

That was the girl.

Jurian had left her there—for us. Where he'd gone ... I saw no sign of him.

But behind us, filling the air as if he'd used magic to do so ... The

king spoke.

"What intrepid thieves," he drawled, the words everywhere and

nowhere. "How shall I punish you?"

I had no doubt the wards ended just beyond the cliff's edge. It was

confirmed by the snarls of the hounds, who seemed to know that their

prey would escape in less than a hundred yards. If we could jump far

enough to be clear of them.

"Get her out, Azriel," I begged him, panting."I'll get the other."

"We're all—"

"That's an order."

A clean shot, an unimpeded path right to that cliff's edge, and to freedom beyond—

"You need to—" My words were cut off.

I felt the impact before the pain. The searing, burning pain that erupted through my shoulder.

An ash arrow—

My feet snagged beneath me, blood spraying, and I hit the rocky

ground so hard my bones groaned. Azriel swore, but with Elain in his

arms, fighting—

The hounds were there in a second.

I fired an arrow at one, my shoulder screaming with the movement. The hound fell,

clearing the view behind.

Revealing the king striding down the line of tents, unhurried and

assured of our capture, a bow dangling from his hand. The bow that had

delivered the arrow now piercing through my body.

"Torturing you would be so dull," the king mused, voice still magnified.

"At least, the traditional sort of torture." Every step was slow,

intentional. "How Rhysand shall rage. How he shall panic. His mate, at

last come to see me."

Before I could warn Azriel to hurry, the other two hounds were on

me.

One leaped right for me. I lifted my bow to intercept its jaws.

The hound snapped it in two, hurling the wood away. I grabbed for

a knife, just as the second one leaped—

A roar deafened me, made my head ring. Just as one of the hounds was thrown off me.

I knew that roar, knew—

A golden-furred beast with curling horns tore into the hounds.

"Tamlin," I got out, but his green eyes narrowed how could you his eyes seemed to say.

That was who had been running alongside us. Trying to find us.

The king paused, and though he remained far off, I could

clearly make out the (smugness radiating off) his face.

Now. I had to go now—

I scrambled to my feet, whipping the arrow out with a swallowed scream. Azriel was already there, no more than a few heartbeats having   
passed—

Azriel gripped me by the collar, and a web of

blue light fastened itself at my shoulder. Holding

the blood in, a bandage until a healer—

"You need to fly," he panted.

Six more hounds closed in. Tamlin still staring at me as if shocked I was there.

"We need to get airborne," Azriel said, one eye now on the king as he resumed his mockingly slow approach. "Can you make it?"

The young woman was still standing at the edge of the cliff. Watching us with wide eyes, black hair whipping over her face.

I'd never made a running takeoff before. I'd barely been able to keep in the skies.

Even if Azriel took the girl in his free arm ...

I didn't let myself consider the alternative.   
I would get airborne. Only long enough to sail over that cliff, and winnow out when we'd passed the wards' edge.

I summoned the wings. The drag and weight   
of them ... Even with the Siphon-bandage, pain   
razed my senses at the tug on my muscles.   
I panted through my gritted teeth as Azriel   
plunged ahead, wings beginning to flap. Not   
enough space on the jutting ledge for us to do   
this side by side. I gobbled down details of his takeoff, the beating of his wings, the shifting angle of his body.   
"Grab onto him!" Elain ordered the wide-eyed human girl as Azriel thundered toward her.   
The girl looked like a doe about to be run down by a wolf.   
The girl did not open her arms as they neared.

Elain screamed at her,   
"If you want to live, do   
it now!"   
The girl dropped her cloak, opened her arms   
wide.   
Her black hair streamed behind Azriel,   
catching amongst his wings as he practically   
tackled her into the sky. But I saw, even as I ran,   
Elain's pale hands lurch—gripping the girl by   
her neck, holding her as tightly as she could.   
And just in time.   
One of the hounds passed by Tamlin in   
a mighty leap. I ducked, bracing for impact.   
But it was not aiming for me. Two bounding strides down the stone ledge and another leap  
Azriel's roar echoed off the rocks as the   
hound slammed into him, dragging those   
shredding talons down his spine, his wings—   
The girl screamed, but Elain moved. As Azriel   
battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on   
them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast's   
face. Its eye. Another. Another.   
It bellowed, and Elain slammed her bare,   
muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck   
home.   
With a yelp of pain, it released its claws—and   
plunged into the ravine.   
So fast. It happened so fast. And  
blood—   
blood sprayed from his back, his  
wings—   
But Azriel remained in the air. Blue light splayed over the wounds. Staunching the blood,   
stabilizing his wings. I was still running for the   
cliff as he whirled, revealing a pain-bleached   
face, while he gripped the two women tightly.   
But he beheld what charged after me. The sprint ahead. And for the first time since I had   
known him, there was terror in Azriel's eyes as   
he watched me make that run.   
I flapped my wings, an updraft hauling my   
feet up, then crashing them down onto the rock. I   
stumbled, but kept running, kept flapping, back   
screaming—   
Another one of the hounds came barreling down that   
narrow stretch of rock, claws gouging the stone   
beneath. I could have sworn the king laughed   
from behind.   
"Faster!" Azriel roared, blood oozing with   
each wing beat. I could see the dawn through the   
shreds in the membrane. "Push up!"   
The stone echoed with the thunderous steps   
of the hound and Tamlin at my heels.   
The end of the rock loomed. Freefall lay beyond. And I knew the hound would leap with   
me. The king would have it retrieve me by any   
means necessary, even if my body was broken on   
the river far, far below. This high, I would   
splatter like an egg dropped from a tower.   
And he'd keep whatever was left of me, as   
Jurian had been kept, alive and aware.   
"Hold them high!"   
I stretched my wings as far as they would go.

Thirty steps between me and the edge.   
"Legs up!"   
Twenty steps. The sun broke over the eastern   
horizon, guilding Azriel's bloody armor with gold.   
The king fired another arrow—two. One for   
me, one soaring for Elain's exposed back. Azriel   
slammed both away with a blue shield. But was unable to stop the next two from hitting their targets, my wings, I screamed and fell to my knees.   
"Feyre!" Azriel screamed.   
"Az, get them out, tell Rhys I'm sorry and to stay away! Don't let him come after me or do anything stupid to get me back please! Just go!"  
"No, I promised him I'd get you both out!" he said starting to fly towards me.   
"No! Get them out, that's an order!" I snarled.   
I unleashed a flare of Helion's white light.   
Burning, singeing, melting.   
A hole ripped through the wards. Barely wide enough..   
"Go please."   
His body trembled, straining against the order. It was the first time I'd ever used that— the command of a High Lord. My chest caved at the sight of his struggle. I knew he loved me as I loved him, my brother, my spymaster, and my friend; one of few I would trust with my sister's life. Azriel looked at me, tears in his eyes and the last of his strength thrown into fighting the order.  
"Go Az, take my sister and the girl and fly. Tell Rhys and the rest of the family how much I love them!" I screamed as Tamlin pounced.


	2. Chapter 2

_Rhysand_  
••••••••••••••  
There was a roaring throughout the camp, a horrible noise full of rage and frustration and utter terror. I knew somehow that that noise was coming from me. My mate, my equal, my High Lady, my Feyre— gone. Somehow I knew that despite my anguish, I had to master my emotions, at least on the outside. Azriel, along with my entire inner circle and the other Archeron sisters were surrounding me. All but Amren were crying. Azriel cried silent tears as Cassian wept, holding Az and a hysterical Mor to him. Elain— the reason for Feyre's absence, an insane part of me thought— was sobbing quietly, knees pulled to her chest by bound wrists while Nesta raged beside her, screaming and crying at once, accusing Azriel for her sister's sure demise. Amren had just sat in my chair, squeezing the armrests hard enough for them to groan under the pressure.  
Azriel had shown me what happened, and I had in turn projected it to the others. Helion and Thesan came bursting through the flaps of the tent and halted in the doorway. I mastered myself enough to motion for Thesan to come in and attend to Azriel's wounds while Helion would do his best to remove Elain's restraints, but Helion stilled, searching the room for a face he would not find.  
"Feyre." Helion murmured, daring to look me in the eye as the realization dawned on him. I could see his heart sink, and even Thesan seemed upset. Helion walked straight past Elain and embraced me. "We'll get her back. She's the strongest willed person I've ever met in my life, and if there's one female who can survive Hybern, it's her."  
"Tamlin," I barely managed to make out— "the bastard caught her on her sprint to freedom." I choked out. "I have little doubt that Feyre can survive Hybern, but Tamlin is an entirely different story. He knows her. Her weaknesses and her fears. He is aware of every insecurity. He will be a thousand times worse to her than he was at the meeting, now that she's alone and he is backed up by an army."  
He shuddered at the thought, but embraced me tighter. "Tamlin has officially become an enemy of every court in Prythian. Even if Beron sides with Hybern, Eris loved his aunts, there's no way he'll stand for Hybern, especially because I think he somehow has developed respect for Feyre in his perverse little mind. The twenty-something year old saviour of Prythian, who has led the charge in this second great war has left her sizeable mark on us all."  
Thesan finally spoke, "I will send word to my allies on the continent. If this does not convince them to send aid, then at least should this war not be in our favour, they will not only be prepared for Hybern, but will also gladly execute Tamlin. If your mate is still alive in that scenario, they will be looking for every opportunity to free her. My condolences for her capture."  
Amren snarled at him, "We don't need your condolences you posh bastard, we need my High Lady back!" Thesan glared at her, no doubt about to open his mouth and remind her of the fact that she was speaking to a High Lord when she continued, harsh tone waking my family from their stupor, "I don't give a fuck if you're the High Lord of Dawn or some charlatan on the streets! I am not just Second in command in the Night Court, I am your worst nightmare. I am the monster you were told stories of as a youngling and I am older than Prythian itself. Your power is nothing, a droplet in the ocean that is my own power. Don't you ever think of pulling rank on me boy, it'll be the death of you."  
Thesan—rightfully so— paled at the tiny monster's words. I stepped out of Helion's embrace and tried to walk gracefully to Amren's side, pulling on the mask of the cruel Lord of Nightmares without my shining star, and leaned on the back of Amren's chair for support. "Amren is correct, dear Thesan. Thank you for your work in healing my brother, but we do not need pity, and Amren certainly shouldn't be looked down upon, despite her physical stature."  
—————

It was nearly dawn; I had spent hours trying to come up with a plan to rescue Feyre while Helion had freed Elain from her chains and my tent emptied once more. I had tried over and over to use the bond to contact Feyre, to no avail. I refused to believe she was dead, that Hybern would have so little finesse.  
He knew how much she meant to me, as well as this entire alliance. I hoped that he had seized the opportunity to gain the upper hand on me. Maybe he would allow me to exchange my life for hers, there was nothing I wouldn't do to ensure that Feyre survived this war. The unfortunate truth was that the Tamlin had caught her, and he was not one to let go easily. 

The best I could do was hope that the reason I could not contact my mate was because Hybern had shackled her as he had Elain.  
All of a sudden, I felt the bond come back to life, my mate was definitely alive, but I dreaded what she might say.  
I love you, Rhys. I have been given a few seconds to let you know that I'm alive and the king says he will enjoy using me to torture you. I love the rest of our family, please keep them safe and don't come for me. Focus on the war at hand. If I can escape, you have my word that I will. You won't be able to to feel me because of the faebane shackles, but I'm here. When you meet Tamlin and the king on the battlefield, kill the fuckers. Tell Azriel thank you, I'm okay. I lo—and then the bond was once again silent. I reviewed her message over and over in my head, she'd tried to keep any emotion but love from the bond, but I'd felt what it failed to mask. Pain. Fear. Urgency. Sorrow. Despair. My mate truly didn't want me to worry over the fact that she was with my enemy, an enemy with a bad reputation with females. I could only pray to the cauldron that she remained unharmed, because I was worried what I'd do if she wasn't.


End file.
